


what a bother.

by turnaboutcafe



Series: cafe backrooms and serendiptuous shenanigans. [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Bakery, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Baristas, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Childhood Friends, Coffee, Coffee Shops, Domestic Fluff, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Kissing, M/M, and kuroo is the manager bless my soul, basically kenma's sick of shitty customers but cant do anything about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:54:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24546487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnaboutcafe/pseuds/turnaboutcafe
Summary: kenma never knew what compelled him to work as a barista in his university's coffee shop, but here he finds himself, making coffee and iced lattes for the horrendous number of chattery university students who come to the cafe daily.little did he know, the peace his short lived career as a barista wouldn't last as long as he thought it would.or, the two times kuroo saves kenma from an annoying customer, and the one time kenma saves him from a desctructive one.
Relationships: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Series: cafe backrooms and serendiptuous shenanigans. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1774060
Comments: 10
Kudos: 240





	what a bother.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm thinking of making a coffee shop/bakery series in the same universe but for different haikyuu!! ships, i'm so excited because i have the three other one-shots for the series written out already :3

Kenma had his fair share of annoying, rude customers.

The first one in his short lived time as a barista came on a cool Summer evening four months into the job. That day, the cafe jostled with life as people flitted around, a mix of baristas delivering coffees and customers streaming into the shop creating organized chaos in the cozy university coffee shop. Kenma was situated behind the counter, busy taking orders as he rapidly wrote names and coffee preferences on plastic cups, barely taking time to take in the surroundings of the coffee shop around him in his own flurry of labor. Despite the business of the cafe, Kenma felt comfortable, at ease as he rapidly served coffee with practiced agility, calm energy radiating through him, taking money and delivering coffee with fluidity, his ability to multitask honed throughout the months of working at the busy shop.

As the amount of customers began to wane after a busy hour in the afternoon, Kenma wiped a drip of sweat from his brow, sighing as he put messily deposited syrup bottles and coffee cups back into their original places, wiping down the counters from the mess of spilled coffee made by the rush of customers who had grabbed their coffee without thought, not pausing to wipe up the spilt drips of the caffeinated beverage. Around him, the other baristas were finally taking their respective breaks too, lounging on several chairs in the backroom after the long and busy hour of work. 

Kenma glanced towards the back of the room, eyes squinting as he tried to read the notes on coffee availability left by Suga, who usually organized the backroom supplies. With a frown, Kenma neared the paper, taking a mental note of everything that had been used up to satisfy the busy throng of customers. With a sigh of relief, Kenma realized that the only thing that was out was cold brew. It was close to evening anyway; the chances of anyone ordering cold brew late in the evening was miniscule.

As he pulled his eyes back to look up, the doorbell to the cafe jingled, turning his attention towards it. Approaching the counter, Kenma tucked part of his hair behind his ear, slipping his Switch back into his apron pocket. The customer, a university student, marched up to the counter, face disgruntled as if she hadn’t slept in years, the effect of several all-nighters painted across her face. Kenma plastered a practiced smile on his face, nodding politely at the customer in front of him.

“May I get you anything?” Kenma asked, looking at her. She eyed him with distaste, slamming a wallet onto the counter. Kenma tensed his shoulders, fighting to keep himself calm as the girl proceeded to rest her bursting bag on the table.

“Cold brew, the strongest one you have,” the girl replied. With a grimace, Kenma glanced at the supply chart he’d just seen, a frown forming on his face. His hands were frozen, hesitating before the marker could touch the plastic cup, the girl eyeing him. “I said, I want cold brew.”

Kenma clenched his jaw, mild annoyance running through him at her tone, gripping the sharpie in his hand. “I apologize, but we ran out of cold brew earlier today. Would you be interested in getting anything else?”

“You’re out of _cold brew_?” the girl repeated, disgust plastered across her face.

“Could I get you anything else?” Kenma asked, fighting to keep his tone as polite as he possibly could. Despite his urge to drop his tone to a dangerous one, Kuroo’s cautionary words on annoying customers came to his mind. “We have a variety of other coffees, all listed on our menu.”

“I want cold brew,” the girl insisted, looking at him.

“I apologize, but—”

“Then check the back for cold brew!” the girl yelled, eyeing him menacingly. “What kind of coffee shop doesn’t have cold brew? You should be sued for this!”

“I apologize, but we’ve already checked—”

“I didn’t see you go there and check,” she retorted, voice dropping to a threatening undertone. “Go check for cold brew now, you probably misplaced it or something.”

With a resigned sigh, Kenma left the counter, trudging to the backroom, steps heavy as he moved towards the door, the annoyance becoming evident on his face the moment his face turned away from the customer. Annoyed rage slowly bubbled in him, simmering as he heaved the dense metal door open. As the door opened, Suga, seated on a stool with his phone in hand, looked at him with wide, curious eyes.

“Kenma, you look like someone slapped you on the face,” he noted, pocketing his phone.

“We’re out of cold brew, right?” Kenma responded, not bothering to answer Suga’s question. “Right?”

“We’re all out,” Suga confirmed. “I already put that in the supply notes in front, or did I forget to write it today?”

“No, you did write it out,” Kenma sighed, threading his fingers through his dual colored hair. “Some woman in front is insisting on having cold brew, no matter how many times I’ve told her that we don’t have cold brew.”

Suga’s face turned dark, eyes shining with pity as he looked at Kenma. “Is she refusing to take any other coffee instead of cold brew?”

“Do you think I tried?”

Kenma made his way back to the counter, clenching his fists in his pocket as he caught sight of the woman again. Somehow, she was even more agitated now, looking him up and down as he came back from the back room, eyes sharp and perceptive. Her arms were now crossed in front of her chest, impatience painted all over her face. Putting his usual customer service smile back on, he braced himself.

“I apologize, miss, but we really are out of cold brew. We could make—”

“You’re probably not checking the backroom well enough!” she shouted, slamming her hand on the counter. Silently, Kenma was thankful that no customers remained in the shop. “How can a coffee shop not have cold brew? I came in here expecting cold brew, and I expect to be served it. What kind of customer service is this?”

“I apologize, but—”

Suddenly, another figure appeared beside him. “I apologize, but is there a problem here?”

Kenma looked up, relief flooding him like cold water as he saw who was beside him. Kuroo, dressed in his typical uniform, stood next to him, arms folded across his chest, looking down at the woman. His eyes were sharp as he gave her a subtle glare, figure standing close to Kenma, stance protective. At his appearance, the woman clenched her jaw, staring back at him evenly.

“This barista here claims that there isn’t anymore cold brew,” she spat, looking at him, poison lacing her eyes. “That would be impossible. This is a coffee shop, how could you be out of the ingredient most integral to most coffees?”

“As Kenma-san has said before, we do not have any more cold brew,” Kuroo replied smoothly, confidence rippling in his voice. “Sugawara-san, one of our employees, keeps track of our supplies meticulously and creates precise calculations for how much supplies we need per day. Unfortunately, we seem to have had a larger amount of students coming into the shop due to finals week, so we’re out of cold brew today.”

“How is that possible?” she ranted, glaring at the two of them. “How did you fail to account for finals week? Obviously there would be more students coming into the shop at that time for your strongest coffee. You’re failing to serve a customer, I ought to file a complaint against you!”

“I believe that that would be unnecessary,” Kuroo replied, voice firm. “We have not broken any laws. We’re not refusing to serve you, we simply cannot due to the lack of supplies.”

“This is an injustice!”

Kuroo sighed, jaw clenching as he always did when something was beginning to tick him off. Kenma gripped the edge of Kuroo’s apron warningly, sending a glance towards him. Kuroo nodded back, his gaze sharpening at the woman.

“We can make you another coffee,” Kenma suggested, keeping his voice as passive as he possibly could. “A latte, maybe? Or—”

“I want cold brew, and the manager,” she replied darkly, cutting him off mid-sentence. “I demand to see the person overseeing this cafe!”

“I believe that would be impossible,” Kuroo replied, voice dark. Beside him, Kenma felt amusement bubbling in him, forcing his lips into a thin line to prevent the laughter building inside of him from bursting as he stared at the angered woman. At Kuroo’s words, the rage was beginning to weave itself onto the woman’s face, the rise of her annoyance only filling Kenma with more hilarity.

This was going to be interesting.

“Why would that be impossible?” she demanded, looking at him. “This is a cafe, the manager should be on standby! What if—”

“That would be impossible because you’ve already talked to the manager,” Kuroo sighed, extending his hand in mock courteous greeting. “Kuroo Tetsurou, manager of the cafe, pleased to be of your acquaintance.”

“You… You!” the woman spluttered, looking at him. “I demand an explanation for this horrid customer service!”

“I believe the only thing horrid about this situation is the scene you’re making in the middle of a public area,” Kuroo responded, voice cool. “Please evacuate the premises before I call the security on you to bring you to the police for causing emotional distress to one of my employees.”

“But—”

Kuroo’s gaze was cold, Kenma’s fingers tensing, frozen as he looked into the icy eyes of his friend, an expression he’d never before seen on his face: frigid, silent anger. “My point still stands. Please evacuate the premises before the charges of emotional distress against you grow bigger.”

With a huff, the woman stomped out of the area, a last glare sent at the two of them, and the glass door of the cafe slammed shut. As the jingling of the bell attached to the door came to a halt, Kenma’s shoulders sank in relief, body weight leaned on the counter, supporting his weakened legs. With a sympathetic look, Kuroo patted him on the back, rubbing his shoulder lightly before he turned back to look at the door.

“Good job for handling her before I arrived,” Kuroo nodded.

The tension in his own body was still evident as he tried to move his legs, only to feel nothing. Kuroo looked at him for a moment, frowning as he observed Kenma’s actions.

“Are you okay?” Kuroo asked, eyes tainted with concern.

“Yeah,” Kenma managed. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You should take a break,” Kuroo mused, hand resting on Kenma’s shoulder. “I’ll get Sugawara-san to cover for you; you should take a break. Go find somewhere to sit in the cafe and rest before you continue your shift.”

Under different circumstances, Kenma would have protested, insisting that he was fit enough to continue working. But at Kuroo’s stern gaze, Kenma nodded meekly, slinking to a corner of the cafe, resting himself on the couch. Almost immediately, he retracted the Switch from his pocket, quickly turning it on before he continued playing his unfinished game, completely concentrated. Fingers flying over the controls, his mind slowly began to detach from where he was, completely focused on the mission at hand, tip of his tongue stuck out in concentration, gaze unwavering as he continued to observe the characters moving across the screen.

Then, a voice broke his thoughts.

“I don’t understand how you never get bored of those games,” Kuroo commented, settling a cup of chamomile tea in front of him.

“It distracts me,” Kenma pointed out, “which is always welcome. And, it’s not like I’ve been playing the same game for 20 years straight, you know.”

Folding his arms, Kuroo took a seat beside him, amusement lightening his face. As he continued playing, Kenma could feel the burn of Kuroo’s gaze on the side of his head, observational eyes looking at him as he controlled the characters, fingers moving at the speed of light as he fought character after character on the screen, dodging attacks expertly, getting in punches with ease. But, Kenma could sense something in Kuroo’s gaze. It wasn’t the normal, interested gaze he held while looking at Kenma whilst he played something interesting.

It was something serious.

Kenma looked up at his friend, meeting his eyes. They were filled with concern as he watched Kenma, observational. Pausing his game, Kenma shifted his body towards his childhood friend, meeting his stare evenly.

“Thank you for the tea, Kuro,” Kenma murmured, taking a sip of it.

“Are you okay?” Kuroo asked, looking at him with concern. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Kenma asked, taking another sip from the tea. It tasted bitter.

“The woman just now,” Kuroo began, voice amiable, as if trying to keep the talk lighthearted. “I saw you fidgeting.”

“And?”

“You only do that when you’re anxious,” Kuroo pointed out, taking a sip of tea from his own mug. “Are you okay?”

“Perfectly fine,” Kenma reiterated, “as long as you leave me with cookies and my Switch.”

Kuroo let out a laugh, his loud guaffs reverberating throughout the cafe, earning some looks from the other employees stationed at the cafe. As he laughter died, his gaze softened as he looked at Kenma, almost affectionate.

“Yeah, I’ll leave you to your switch, but I can’t raid the cookie supply for you again,” he decided. For a moment, his muscles tensed, before moving to pull Kenma into a side hug. “Just tell me when you want to get back to being a barista, yeah?”

To his disappointment, the first encounter of such a customer was far from his last.

The next came on a frigid Autumn morning. That day, Kenma ws doing the usual, wiping down wooden tables alongside the other baristas, cleaning up any residual mess from the previous day, arranging cups of coffee for easy access throughout the day. Kuroo, despite being the manager, was among them as they cleaned the tables, helping out with the menial work they were forced to do before they opened up shop. Kenma, tasked with the job of dealing with making drinks that day, found himself in calm, gentle conversation with Kuroo as he helped the other baristas prepare the supplies for that day, viscous syrup poured into bottles and coffee grounds placed into jars to help the day go by smoother.

“It should be a slower day today,” Kuroo commented as he put away a porcelain coffee cup on the cupboard, moving to wipe water stains off of another one. “I don’t think that many customers are going to come in, I think the university is on holiday or something.”

“No more people demanding cold brew, then,” Kenma sighed, relief washing over him as Kuroo watched him with an amused smile.

“No more cold brew incidents.”

If only he knew how much worse of a day it would be.

When Suga went to the front to open up the cafe, Kenma found the day passing by as slowly as Kuroo had expected it to. Barely anyone entered the cafe, leaving Kenma free to tap away at his Switch while waiting for new orders to make. Daichi, at the counter, was also beginning to succumb to boredom, starting a slow conversation with Suga as they waited for another customer to come.

Finally, after what felt like hours (even if it was realistically only ten minutes), the bell to the door jingled. At the noise, Kenma looked up, shoving his Switch into his apron pocket, wiping his hands on his clothes. With a smile, Daichi greeted the customer, swiftly taking down his order on the coffee cup in his hand, neat penmanship scratching the specifications on the cup.

“One iced chocolate!” Daichi announced, sliding the cup towards Kenma. Nodding, he approached the blender, quickly dumping in cocoa powder, milk and syrup, pulsing the machine several times. As the mixture came to form a smooth paste, Kenma began scooping in ice cubes, blending it to froth the mixture up. 

Then he felt a pair of eyes on the back of his head.

Conscious of the stare, Kenma looked up for a brief moment, shutting down his discomfort as he noticed the eyes of the customer on him, looking at him intently as he made the iced chocolate. Fingers stiffening from the unwanted attention, Kenma forced himself to ignore the feeling of the customer staring at him, forcing himself to get back to work, to ignore the annoyance rising in him as he tried to work on the iced chocolate. Despite the ignoral of the stare, it continued to burn the back of his head, intense as he poured milk into the blender, acidic.

“Don’t you think you should add more milk?” the man commented, looking at the blender distastefully. “The mixture is way too thick.”

“We have specific recipes that we follow,” Kenma replied, voice low as he dumped more ice into the blender. “We’re expected to stick strictly to it.”

“But what’s the point if it doesn’t taste good?” the customer continued, glaring as Kenma scooped another clump of ice into the iced chocolate. Kenma gripped the handle of the ice cube scoop tighter, placing it back into the freezer as he shut the cover, moving to blend the ice again.

Before Kenma could protest, the customer continued his bombardment of remarks, complaints rising in the air the longer Kenma worked on the drink. The customer was infuriating, commenting on the most measly things Kenma did wrongly, blabbering on about putting too much cocoa powder, or blending the mixture for a second too long. The man’s complaints soon filled the shop, the only thing filling the silence in the empty coffee shop. Kenma gritted his teeth at the everflowing barrage of complaints, gripping the blender tighter as he attempted to keep himself calm amidst everything that the customer was saying, silently repeating a mantra to calm himself down.

“You need more syrup,” the customer rambled, watching as Kenma pumped the viscous saccharine mixture into the drink. “It won’t be sweet with the amount of ice you’re adding into the drink!”

“I apologize, but I have to stick to the recipes given to me by my manager,” Kenma managed, twisting the blender off of the stand. “I cannot deviate from them.”

“But this is a customer’s request!” he responded angrily. “Customer is king!”

“I apologize.”

A flow of abusive words began to fly from the customer’s mouth, earning stares from the other baristas as they tried to continue on with the orders of other customers, concern filling their eyes as they watched Kenma. Kenma gave a quick look towards them, calm as he reassured them through his gaze. Uncertainly, they turned their eyes away from Kenma and the customer, moving back to their normal work. Suga, eyes still on Kenma, furrowed his brow, concern evident. As Kenma shook his head at him, warning him not to involve himself, Suga slunk away, eyes still stuck on the customer.

Kenma poured the chocolatey mixture into the cup Daichi had given him, adding ice to the top of the mixture. Instinctively, he grabbed the whip cream can, making a quick design on the top before he lidded it with a dome shaped cap, handing it to the customer.

“Hey, are you even listening?” the customer demanded, arm lashing to shove Kenma’s head backwards. “I didn’t ask for whip cream!”

Kenma looked down at the order, grimacing as he noticed ‘no whip’ written in Daichi’s neat handwriting, head numbing as the pain of the customer’s shove began to register. Gritting his teeth, he turned his eyes back up to the customer.

“I apologize,” he bowed. “I can remake it for you.”

But before he could move back up from his bow, something came down on the back of his head, forcing his head down onto the marble counter. Searing pain ripped through his head as he felt his come against the hard counter top, a stinging sensation remaining even as the initial flare came down, his ears ringing as the customer continued his complaints, shouting louder than he had been before. Around him, he could sense the rush of the other baristas as they came in to help him, their shadows around him as he gripped his head where it had been hit.

Kenma looked up, glaring at the man, who only stared at him more sharply.

“You deserved that,” the customer spat. “What kind of barista messes up such a simple order?”

“I apologize, but please leave the premises,” Kenma retorted through gritted teeth, the wet feeling of blood slowly being registered by his hand. “Please leave.”

“How dare you?”

In a flurry, Kenma saw the man’s hand coming down in a fist upon him, too fast for him to move away. But, before it connected with his head, it stopped, just above the soft skin in the center of his head.

“Sir, please leave the premises,” a toxic voice cut in, laced with anger. Kenma looked up, relief filling him as he saw the familiar figure of a dark haired man.

“Why should I listen to any of you?” the customer demanded, lashing out at Kuroo. “The customer is king! I demand to be served!”

The man pulled his fist back, ready to strike. But, before the man could land a punch on Kuroo, Kuroo caught his fist, quickly restraining the man behind his back before he could pull another attack on him. Kuroo’s muscles rippled with the effort, face twisting in a grotesque mix of anger and effort as he held the man down.

“The cafe and its baristas have the right to refuse service to any violent or rude customer,” Kuroo spoke fluently, as if his words were recited off of a manual. “So before I call the security to take you away, I would suggest that you leave.”

“Preposterous!” the man spat, twisting his head to face Kuroo. “I’ll sue you!”

“You can try,” Kuroo spoke, voice dangerously low. “However, I do advise you that we are capable of making our own defense, and the injury you left on one of my baristas will be enough to prove that you were in the wrong.”

The man gave out a growl, pushing Kuroo away. Immediately, Kuroo gripped the man’s wrist, a dark warning leaving his lips as he gave him a low toned rebuttal, the customer pulling away upon hearing it, shooting back a scathing remark, mild fear flashing in his eyes. With one last look at Kuroo, he walked out of the cafe, slamming the door shut. Kuroo’s eyes didn’t leave the door until the man was out of sight, eyes dark with a mix of concern and anger as he turned to face Kenma. Kenma, surrounded by Suga and Daichi, already had ice to his bleeding forehead, the blood stemmed by a cloth they had taken from the table.

“Sugawara-san, Daichi-san,” Kuroo began, looking at the two of them, “can you two manage the cafe for a while? I’ll take care of Kenma.”

“Got it!” Suga replied cheerfully, carefully leading Kenma’s hand so he could press the cloth onto the wound himself. “It’s a slow day, we should be fine.”

“I’m fine,” Kenma insisted, pulling the cloth away from his head. “I can manage.”

“Kenma, you’re bleeding,” Daichi pointed out, looking at him sympathetically. “You should rest, or at least get a bandage on your forehead to stop the bleeding.”

Suga nodded. “You’ll be back in no time!”

Slowly, Kuroo led Kenma to the staff room at the back of the cafe, motioning for him to sit down. Kenma did, resting himself on a stool they kept in the backroom for reaching the higher storage boxes. As he did, Kuroo retrieved a first aid kit from a corner of the room, pulling up a second stool to sit in front of Kenma. Slowly, he opened the first aid kit, expertly sifting through the items as he attempted to find what he was looking for, glancing up at Kenma every so often, eyes grazing the soaked cloth on Kenma’s head before turning back to look at the first aid kit.

“Move the cloth,” Kuroo instructed, tugging slightly on Kenma’s hand. Slowly, Kenma pulled the cloth away, a stream of blood immediately beginning to trickle its way down his face. Quickly, Kuroo put a piece of cotton in place of the cloth, gently instructing Kenma to hold it. As he did, Kuroo soaked another cottonball in antiseptic, moving Kenma’s hand away from the cloth, gently cleaning the wound with the cold alcohol. It stung the wound, slight pain spreading through him as the alcohol speed into the wound, making him jerk away. Hands light, Kuroo held him still as he continued to clean the wound.

“Does it hurt?” Kuroo murmured, Kenma wincing as the antiseptic touched the open wound.

“No.”

“Liar.”

Kuroo continued the process, cleaning the blood away as he stemmed the bleeding, perceptive eyes on the small cut. After several minutes, the bleeding had begun to stem, the gruesomely smudged blood on his head cleaned away by Kuroo. Slowly, Kuroo took a bandage from the first aid kit, spreading a dark iodine solution on it before he pasted it firmly on the wound, letting Kenma’s dyed hair fall to cover it slightly. With a satisfied sigh, he packed away the items, tossing the used cotton into the garbage bin.

“When did you learn how to use a first aid kit?” Kenma asked, touching the edges of the bandage tentatively. “I was always the one who had to use it on you when you fell at volleyball practice in high school.”

“The student becomes the teacher,” Kuroo announced proudly, a cheshire grin spreading across his face. “Besides, I’m an adult! I’m perfectly capable of using a first aid kit, thank you very much.”

“Kuro, the last time I let you near a first aid kit you practically soaked all the cotton in iodine before realizing that it was meant to go on the bandage.”

“Hey!” Kuroo protested, clutching his heart. “You can’t attack me like that, I just saved your life!”

Kenma let out a soft, amused snort. “I’m fairly certain that a cut on my head won’t kill me; I didn’t even hit the counter that hard.”

“The sound made when your head hit it says otherwise,” Kuroo retorted, watching as Kenma stood up from the stool he was seated on. “Where are you going?”

“Back to work,” he replied nonchalantly. “Thanks for the bandage, Kuro.”

“You’re not going back to work,” Kuroo insisted, pulling Kenma back onto his seat. “You just injured yourself on the head, and there’s no guarantee whether the blood’s stopped or not. What if you begin bleeding while making coffee or something?”

“Kuro, it’s a small wound, it won’t open up again. It’s not like the muscles in my head are moving around or anything, it’s not like a wound on your leg.”

“Still!”

Despite his protests, Kenma continued his resilient walk towards the door, blocking out Kuroo’s protests from his ears. Exasperation began to melt into his voice as he watched Kenma continue his path towards the door, protests beginning to pick up their pace.

“Kenma, you’re not working again, at least for another hour.”

To prove his point, Kuroo placed himself firmly between him and the door, blocking him from leaving. Sighing, Kenma reached for the handle behind Kuroo, only for his friend to slap his hand away from the handle, moving to completely block Kenma from the handle of the door. His arms were crossed as he continued to look at Kenma, eyes tainted with exasperation.

“Kenma, you can’t work; you’re injured.”

“I’m not anymore,” Kenma retorted, pointing to the bandage, pushing Kuroo, slipping himself into the gap between his friend and the door. “See? It’s all fixed.”

“Bandages aren’t like glue…”

“Still,” Kenma insisted, pushing Kuroo away. “Let me go back to work.”

Just before he could reach the handle to the door, hands grabbed both his arms from behind, crossing it over his own chest, preventing him from moving, an embrace encircling him, holding him still. Behind him, he could feel the gentle breathing of Kuroo ghosting the top of his head, arms around him in a half embrace, warmth coming from him. They were close, so close, embraced as Kuroo prevented him from reaching the door. As Kenma fought against Kuroo’s grip, he could barely move, completely trapped from the door.

“Don’t go back to work, Kenma,” Kuroo repeated, voice dropping to a half whisper. “You’re just going to get hurt again. We have enough baristas to take over while you’re gone.”

“Kuro—”

“Just don’t.”

For long moments, neither of them said a word as they stood near the door, silence overcoming them. Kuroo’s gentle breathing atop his head continued, his chin now resting on his hair. The warmth around Kenma was intoxicating, calming, like a cup of chamomile tea on a cold Autumn night, surrounding him in warmth amidst the icy coldness of the air, keeping him safe. The half hug continued, Kenma’s arms still restrained by Kuroo’s hands in front of him, keeping him from moving, but it didn’t need to. No matter how much Kenma wanted to leave the room, to continue work behind the counter, his body fought to stay, fought to keep him here in the backroom, fought against his mind, against his yearning to continue his work. 

No matter how hard he tried, all he wanted to do was stay.

Slowly, Kenma sunk into Kuroo’s warmth around him, sinking into the half embrace. Kuroo’s arms moved around him, wrapping gently around his shoulders, chest pressed against his back, warmth emanating from him. Kenma took a deep breath, taking in the smell of his warmth, of the musky cologne and roasted coffee, the smells that always followed his friend in his days at the cafe, surrounding him, encapsulating him.

The warmth was calming.

“I’m going to go back to the front,” Kuroo murmured after long moments. “I need to check on them.”

Unconsciously, Kenma’s body tensed as the warm arms began to withdraw from him, coldness surrounding him once again. The hug had barely lasted a dozen seconds, yet the warmth felt to Kenma like rain felt to spring; integral, inseparable. The stinging disappointment of Kuroo’s withdrawing arms stayed, overrunning the pain of his head. 

Before he could think his actions through, he gripped Kuroo’s arm before it left him, holding it tight.

“Please don’t go.”

And he didn’t.

  


  


* * *

  


  


The cool Spring day was unlike any other. 

The cafe, though typically busy, never faced such a large throng of customers. That day met Kenma with a continuous stream of customers coming into the cafe, orders shouted over the loud buzz of commotion around the tiny establishment, baristas taking down orders in messy handwriting, passing over coffee cups at lightning fast speed to the other stationed baristas, pumping out orders at a rate faster than they’d ever had before. Kenma, stationed behind one of the coffee machines, found himself grinding more coffee beans at a speed unknown to man, arms aching like they were about to fall off. Next to him, Kuroo placed a cup under the espresso machine, letting the black coffee stream into the cup before he placed it on the pick-up table, calling out the order number of the customer.

“Kuroo, you never come out with the baristas,” Kenma pointed out as the manager fell in beside him again, already picking up a new cup to finish the next order. “How come you’re not at the back managing us like you usually do?”

“Someone has to help you guys out with all these customers!” Kuroo retorted, gesturing towards everyone in the room. “You guys won’t survive without an extra hand!”

As Kuroo said that, he moved his hand in a large motion, running it straight under the hot stream of coffee coming into the cup. With a yelp, he clutched his hand, running it under cold water, taking the spoiled coffee cup in the other hand to wash it out. From beside him, Kenma paused from his coffee grinding duties for a moment, glancing to check on Kuroo. Despite the reddish mark forming on his skin, he was otherwise unharmed.

“You sure you can keep up with us, Kuroo?” Daichi teased, sliding a plastic coffee cup to Kenma, who caught it with one hand. “You haven’t done actual barista work in ages, you know?”

“I know that!” Kuroo replied indignantly, glaring at the man stationed behind the cashier, who only gave him a grin.

“Don’t get caught up in the bustle of the store, Kuroo!” Suga added in, eyes shining in amusement. “Wait, wait don’t fire me!”

“Glad to see you know the power I have over all of you,” Kuroo responded, voice amused. “Still, I won’t abuse my power; I’m above that.”

“Says the man who threatens to take away my position every other week,” Suga murmured, looking away.

“What was that?!”

As the hours dragged on, their coffee making and serving system worked without an issue: Daichi took and scribbled down orders, Kuroo made the coffee, Kenma stocked them up on fresh ingredients, and Suga took care of all the pastries in an opposite corner of the cafe. Despite their smooth system, they continued to fumble as time passed, unable to connect orders as smoothly as they had as more customers came in, the amount of people in the cafe only doubling since the morning. Kuroo, usually expectant of the volume of customers they would face, furrowed his eyebrows, placing a porcelain cup under the coffee machine.

“Why do we have so many customers?” Kuroo mused, looking down at the coffee cup. “It’s not like anything special is happening today.”

“Customers mean money,” Kenma replied simply, pausing to massage his bicep before he continued grinding more coffee beans. “More money, even if we have to sell our souls to cope with the sheer amount of people coming into this place.”

“Logical as always.”

As he ground the last batch of coffee beans, Kenma looked up from where he was. A sea of people were now in the store, several lined up in front of the coffee counter, several lined up in front of the pastry section, Suga showing them different items for sale with enthusiasm, the college girls in front of him blushing the lightest shade of pink as he gave them his usual, benevolent smile. Pushing down a grin at the thought of Daichi’s reaction to the girls, Kenma stretched his arms, refilling the coffee machine Kuroo was working on with the ground beans, a small nod of thanks coming from Kuroo.

“Thanks, Kenma,” Kuroo nodded. “You need to take a break?”

Kenma opened his mouth in agreement, before he closed it again. For a moment, he scanned the shop, grimacing at the sheer amount of people that were coming in. As he looked up, a throng of college students were making their way into the shop, chattering away happily as they pointed at the coffee menu, discussing their orders in loud voices. Clenching his teeth, he looked at Kuroo, shaking his head.

“The cafe won’t benefit if I took a break, we’re short on manpower already.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

As Kenma had expected, his refusal to leave only came with more hard labour. Within several hours of helping Kuroo with coffee making, he had coffee spills all over his white uniform, stained brown from the caffeinated drink. Kuroo, who had been making coffee for almost double the time, looked no better, a slight dusting of coffee grounds accompanying the stains on his uniform. The fatigue was becoming evident in his eyes as he pulled on the lever to the coffee machine, muscles straining as he made his hundredth cup of coffee, serving it up to the customer with a smile.

“Kuro,” Kenma began, “don’t you want to take a break?”

“It’s fine, I got this.”

Skeptically, Kenma nodded, looking up. A new group of college students had entered the cafe, chatting animatedly as they approached the counter. With a squint of mild disgust, Kenma noted that they were all wearing the exact same outfit, the students a carbon copy of each other. If it was a team shirt for a sport or a club, Kenma would fully understand. But, he didn’t understand why 5 different people would come into a shop with the exact same skirt and white top, and wear the exact same accessories in identically styled hairdos.

Some people’s actions Kenma simply couldn’t comprehend.

“Good evening,” Daichi greeted. “May I take your order?”

“I’ll have an iced latte,” the first girl spoke, a barrage of other orders coming towards Daichi from the others as he tried to take down the orders as rapidly as he possibly could, hands flying as he marked down the orders on plastic coffee cups. Just looking at the speed at which Daichi took down the orders made Kenma’s wrist ache.

“Will that be all?”

Without a word, the first girl put money on the counter, sliding the bill towards Daichi. Hesitantly, he took it, quickly handing her her change before instructing her to wait for the drink. Swiftly, Daichi slid over the marked up cups to him and Kuroo, leaving them to finish up the 5 cup order themselves. Sighing, Kenma took the first one in his hand, reaching over for milk to place in the blender. Within moments, he was pouring coffee into the blender, hands moving with practiced ease as he made the cup of coffee, shoving ice cubes into the blender hole before pulsing it several times.

As the ice cubes blended, Kenma looked up at Kuroo. He was looking at the blender, his measuring of the ingredients significantly slower than Kenma, pouring the milk and cold brew into the blender hesitantly before he gave it a few experimental blends, face scrunched up as if he was trying to remember the recipe for the drink. With a glance at the cup, Kenma noted down the order in his head, reaching back to the depths of his mind for the recipe.

“Milk, cold brew and two pumps of syrup,” Kenma spoke, leaning it closer to Kuroo’s ear.

“Right, thanks Kenma.”

Even Kenma, who had only worked at the cafe for under a year, could tell the inexperienced stiffness in Kuroo’s hands as he worked to make the iced coffee, face unsure as he pressed on the blender buttons, tongue stuck slightly out in concentration. As Kuroo finished his first drink, Kenma had already begun making the third, leaving only one more drink to make for the group. As he finished blending the last one, he handed the three he had made to the waiting college students, looking up at Kuroo.

“I can take the last order,” Kuroo offered, taking the cup from the counter.

“Are you sure?” Kenma asked, looking at him, eyes widened slightly. “I could always take that order, I can make coffee faster than you anyways.”

“You’ve already made three out of five of the orders,” Kuroo retorted, already placing more milk and ice into his blender. “I can help out with the last one; it would be unfair to let you do most of the work just because you’re better at your job than I am.”

Kenma sighed, nodding at him as he watched his manager get to work. Ever so often, Kenma had to whisper to him the appropriate ingredients, ignoring the gaze of the college students burning on the back of his head, their evident impatience tainting the air. Balling his fists, Kenma shoved his hands in his pockets, trying as hard as he could to push the glares of the girls away, their judging stares stifling him.

“Can’t you make the coffee faster?” one of the girls demanded, looking at Kuroo through squinted eyes. “We have to go to our next class!”

“I apologize,” Kuroo managed, quickly whirring the blender, taking off the cap to pour the contents into the plastic coffee cup. “Here’s your iced latte.”

The girl continued to glare at him, poking a straw into the cup before taking a long sip. As she did, her face twisted in disgust staring down Kuroo with distaste.

“There’s too much sugar in this coffee.”

“I apologize, but I didn’t add any extra sugar,” Kuroo managed, looking at her with evident surprise. “It should be fairly bitter; it’s a latte afterall.”

“I’m the one who tasted it. I come in here every day, I should know what a normal latte made by a competent barista in this cafe tastes like!”

Kenma stared at her, confusion rising in him as he took in her face, analyzing it, scrutinizing it firmly. He didn’t think that he’d ever seen her before, and he worked nearly every shift at the cafe. How would she have known what their typical lattes tasted like?

At the thought of it, distaste rose in him.

“I apologize—”

“There’s too much sugar in this!”

“Ma’am, if it’s an issue I can remake it—”

“I also asked for you not to use dairy!”

“Ma’am, I used almond—”

“I apologize, miss,” Kenma stepped in, “but I watched as he made it. He used almond milk and a non dairy blender, and no artificial sweetening was added into the coffee.”

“This is ridiculous! What kind of customer service is this?”

“I could remake—”

“I’m having none of this!”

With a flourish, the girl lifted her coffee cup in the air, flinging it at Kuroo. As the iced drink flew, its trajectory was almost in slow motion. Kenma saw it slowly burst open, lid flying as brownish liquid flew everywhere. Kuroo gasped in shock as the coffee cup collided with him, cap bursting open as it spilled coffee all over his clothes, soaking them in brown caffeine. Kenma looked up at the girls, eyes wide as he watched her smirk down at Kuroo, no regard for the caffeinated mess she had made, self satisfaction evident in her arrogant glare.

“Serves your right,” she spat. “This is terrible customer service! Let’s go.”

“I apologize, miss, but I can’t let you leave the cafe,” Kenma growled, unrestrained, hot anger rising from within him, a sharp glare leaving him as Suga held his arm in warning, restraining it from flying in a slap. “Please stay within the premises.”

“Kenma, you don’t have to—”

“Excuse me?” the girl demanded, walking up to Kenma. “What did you say?”

“As an employee and witness, I cannot let you leave the premises,” Kenma repeated, voice bubbling with anger, characteristic shyness dissipating from him, hot waves taking over him. “Please do not leave. Daichi, please move to the doors so that she can’t leave.”

“Excuse me?”

Kenma stared her down, glancing at Kuroo momentarily. “What you did just now can be considered an offense against the employees of this place.”

“You can’t do anything about it,” she spat, looking at him. “I paid for that iced latte, I have the right to do whatever I want with it!”

“Miss, I’ll be calling the security,” Kenma announced, reaching for the phone tucked away inside his pocket.

“What?!”

“If you continue to resist, I can sue you for assault and battery,” Kenma warned, voice dripping with white, hot anger as he looked at her evenly. “I can also easily charge you with emotional distress as a result of your actions. The CCTVs and witness testimonies from the baristas should be enough to allow that to pass in court.”

“I—”

“Does there seem to be a problem?” a loud voice sounded behind them. Kenma looked up, relief replacing anger as he saw the familiar, stocky build of the security from the shopping mall.

“Kenma, take Kuroo to the backroom,” Daichi ordered, placing a hand on his shoulder reassuringly. “Let me take care of this.”

Hesitance rose in Kenma as he looked back at the girl, Daichi holding his shoulder in quiet reassurance as his hesitance lingered. Finally, Kenma nodded at Daichi, picking up the spilt coffee cup from the ground as he walked to the backroom, Kuroo trailing behind him. The scent of bitter coffee rose from him as the coffee continued to soak into his clothes, the starchy white material evidently sticky from the beverage.

As they reached the backroom, Kenma dug through the storage boxes, pulling out an extra set of barista uniforms that they kept in the storage. Appreciatively, Kuroo accepted the clothes, quickly stripping out of the caffeine soaked mess his shirt had become. Despite having known Kuroo for years, Kenma averted his eyes, turning to face the wall as his friend changed, fighting the urge to turn around. It was almost painful how long Kuroo took to change, as if he was peeling off his soiled clothes at the speed of a slug. The air was silence, awkward tension filling it as Kuroo’s changing continued. It was stifling, unbearable.

_We’re friends. It won’t matter if I turn around…_

_Right?_

“Thanks for your help, Kenma,” Kuroo spoke, breaking the silence between them. Kenma turned around, offering his friend a half smile. To his relief, Kuroo had already changed into the spare clothes, the coffee stained one a heap on the ground beside him.

“Do you need a wet cloth?”

“No, I should be fine.”

For a long moment, silence overtook them as Kenma leaned against the wall of the storage room, Kuroo picking up the clothes from the ground to store in a plastic bag. To others, the silence would be stifling, but long years of friendship told Kenma otherwise as he watched Kuroo deposit the tied up bag in a corner of the room, limbs stretched out as he worked out the tension from the hours of work.

“You make a terrible barista, Kuro.”

“That’s not fair!” Kuroo protested, whipping around to face Kenma. “I haven’t been making coffee recently, so of course I’m not as fast!”

“Then why was the drink sweet?”

“Hm…” Kuroo murmured, slightly sheepish. “I may have added an extra pump of syrup because I forgot the recipe?”

“I should have defended you…”

“Kenma, you don’t mean that!” Kuroo whined, clutching his heart in mock pain. “How could you say that to someone as nice as me? I’m your senior! You should compensate for the pain you’re giving me!”

Kuroo’s stance brought a small smile of amusement to his lips, tugging it into a soft grin.

“Fine,” Kenma whispered.

At his words, a force overtook him, bringing him close to Kuroo, lacing his arms around his waist. Tilting his head up, Kenma brought his face close to Kuroo’s, capturing his lips. The sweet taste of saccharine lined coffee danced across his mouth, gentle notes of whip cream tingling his lips. Kuroo’s scent waltzed around him, the gentle aroma of freshly brewed coffee tangling with his usual shampoo, intoxicating Kenma, drawing him closer. As they stood there, lips on each others’, Kenma felt Kuroo’s lips upturn into a smile, sinking into the kiss, capturing it.

It felt nice.

“Kuroo-san, Kenma, we—”

At the interruption, Kenma whipped around, peeling himself away from Kuroo. Suga stood at the door, looking at the two of them, head turning between the both of them in brief shock, before composing himself with a knowing smirk on his face, face flashing in amusement for a moment. Before the either of them could protest, he painted on his usual benevolent smile again, eyes shining.

“We got rid of the customer!” he continued cheerily, looking at the two of them, awkward tension filling the air as a silence drew between them. “I thought I should tell you. Anyway, I’ll get back to pastry selling while you two… do whatever it is.”

With a slam of the door, Suga was gone, leaving the two alone in the storage room, space between them filled with silence.

Kuroo looked up at Kenma, a playful smirk coming onto his face. “Kenma, you know when I said you had to compensate for your words, I didn’t necessarily mean you should kiss me.”

“I mean.. I…” Kenma muttered, words trailing off. For the first time in years, the right words failed to come to mind.

“But as Sugawara-san has kindly pointed out, we should get back to doing… whatever it is.”

“Meaning?”

“This.”

And in moments, the bitter-sweet taste of sugary caffeine filled him once again.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you liked it!! if you did, please consider leaving a kudos and/ comment, it would make my day <3
> 
> also, more coffee shop/bakery au's in the same universe as this oneshot are coming soon, so stay tuned :3


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